


A mistake

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like it is in the movies. It doesn't feel the way Chester says it does...maybe Chester was just a lot braver than you. [short. overdosing!Rob fic]</p>
            </blockquote>





	A mistake

It's not like it is in the movies. It doesn't feel the way Chester says it does. It _burns_. Oh god, you can almost imagine your stomach lining rotting away. Maybe Chester was just a lot braver than you. Or on acid, or something, because you can almost feel yourself dying and you're not just being dramatic here.

 

You'd been desperate, at the time, to feel anything other than the pain. But all you've succeeded in doing is doubling the pain tenfold. You feel dizzy and tired and want to just...sleep. So you lie down on the kitchen floor, pressing your sweating cheek to the cool floor and crying quietly. It hurts and you're tired and you feel sick and pathetic.

 

When Mike finds you you're almost unconscious. He's yelling at you, telling you to get your ass off the floor now but you can't feel your legs. You'd read somewhere that the effects of an overdose on coproxamol was similar to morphine. It's fitting that only in death would your pain be killed.

 

There are arms around you, pulling you easily to your feet and you want to yell at Mike to get out of the way but it's too late - you're already throwing up violently onto the floor. You fold over yourself, vomiting heavily and watching as half-dissolved pills hit the floor in front of you, along with the pint of water you drank just before you couldn't move your fingers.

 

Mike is behind you, he's on the phone, hysterical and scared. He's urging someone to come quick, then his hands are gently rubbing your back, telling you its going to be okay.

 

Your tongue feels thick in your mouth, alien and disgusting. You reach one hand up to touch it, because it's so fucking huge and you don't want it in your mouth any more. You fall to your knees, your fingers in your mouth prodding and clawing at your tongue. You turn to Mike with frightened eyes as he pulls away your hands, holding them gently in his. You try to talk but the alien thing in your mouth barely moves and all you can do is slur. But Mike's saying, it's going to be okay. He tells you "you'll be alright, Robbie".

 

Licking your lips slowly you slur, "it hurts", because it really fucking does. Your insides are on fire, your heart racing. You can't remember anyone ever telling you suicide hurt so much. Chester, when he spoke about overdosing, he made it sound so glamorous the way only a rockstar can. But here, surrounded by your own bile and vomit and blood, all you can think is that this is anything but glamorous.

 

You tell Mike, "I'm sorry," close your eyes and lean against him. Sweating and crying and dying you lean against him and he holds you loosely, his tears hitting your skin. You'd tell him it was all a big mistake, but you're _so tired_.

 

You close your eyes...


End file.
